Walking Into Murder Read online

  “I wish we could hear what they’re saying,” Laura murmured. “Maybe Morris is in on this, too, whatever it is your father is investigating.”

  “Wouldn’t be surprised,” Catherine answered. “If you’ll wait here for a minute, I’ll get us in.”

  Laura was astonished. “But how? I heard Morris lock the door. And we can’t get in the front way because the butler will give us away. He’s automatic.”

  “Not to worry,” Catherine assured her. “See that window up there?” She pointed at the end window on the second floor. “That’s Nigel’s room. He told me if there was ever an emergency to come in that way. There’s a trellis, and lots of vines and stuff. It’s perfectly safe. I’ll go up and then sneak downstairs and open the back door for you.”

  “The window looks very high, and Morris is inside,” Laura objected, but Catherine had already reached the trellis. The dogs loped after her eagerly.

  “Stay,” she told them in a stern whisper, and began to scramble up the trellis with the ease of a monkey. Laura watched, torn between admiration and anxiety. Catherine disappeared over the window ledge. Visions of Morris confronting the girl flew through Laura’s mind. She shuddered, and had almost made up her mind to knock boldly at the back door when it opened.

  Catherine beckoned. “All clear,” she hissed. “They’re in the drawing room.”

  Laura hesitated again, wondering if it was irresponsible to go on with this crazy escapade, especially if it endangered Catherine, but curiosity and concern about what had happened to Thomas won her over. She just had to make sure neither of them was seen. She slid inside.

  “Not yet,” Catherine told the dogs as they trotted hopefully to the door. “I’ll let you in later.” Their tails went down in disappointment, but they obeyed and sat down outside the door to wait. Morris would get a nasty surprise when he came out again, Laura thought with satisfaction.

  “We can hide in the hall just outside the drawing room,” she said softly. “It has long curtains and we can stand behind them.”

  Noiselessly, they crept through the kitchen area and along a passage to a door that Laura thought must open into the front hall. She was right, she saw with relief as they opened it cautiously. They heard Antonia’s voice and slid behind the thick curtains. They were very dusty, and Laura concentrated on trying not to sneeze.

  “I wish you’d leave, Morris,” Antonia was saying, with more spirit than Laura had expected from her. “You know Bark doesn’t want you here.”

  “And when your lord and master speaks, you listen, eh, Antonia?” he asked casually. “No place for me at the inn. How very sad.”

  “You know that’s not true,” Antonia snapped. “He’s put up with you for more than a week already for my sake, and now he’s fed up.”

  They sounded as if they knew each other well. Laura frowned. Surely, Morris wasn’t another lover? More likely, he was a co-conspirator.

  Morris seemed unperturbed. “Our lordly Bark seems to be feeling quite flush lately,” he remarked. His tone was casual, but there was a double meaning in the words that Laura didn’t understand.

  “That’s not true,” Antonia said defensively. “What gave you that idea?”

  “I keep my ears open, and my eyes,” Morris answered, and Laura was certain that his words had some special meaning for both of them.

  “You should never have come here,” Antonia said, sounding defensive. “Everything was going along well until you came along.”

  “Stewart seems to think I’ve been a great help,” Morris replied. “After all, someone has to do the dirty work when unexpected problems arise, and your darling would rather keep his hands clean. “Bit of a coward, I fear,” he added musingly.

  “That’s not true either,” Antonia objected. “He’s just…just not very…” Her words trailed off shakily, and Laura was sure the slight had upset her.

  “Drink?” Morris asked. Antonia made no answer. Laura heard the clink of a glass being set down and then a drink being poured. “Here’s to all our health,” Morris said, his tone mocking.

  “You’ve got to go,” Antonia said urgently. “They could be back any moment. I don’t know what Bark will do if he finds you still here.”

  “All right,” Morris agreed equably. “I’ll be off in a minute. Don’t want to ruffle the lord and master’s feathers. But first, Antonia darling, I have one more small matter to discuss with you. Very boring, I fear, since it has to do with me needing a spot of the ready, and with a certain young la-”

  His voice broke off abruptly as the dogs began to bark hysterically. Laura felt Catherine’s hand on her arm. “Car,” she mouthed.

  Laura nodded. Even she had heard the sound of tires on gravel under the dogs’ fierce barks, which came now from the front of the manor.

  The barks changed into whines of pleasure, and she heard Lord Torrington’s booming voice. “Come to greet me, have you?” he told them cheerfully. “Didn’t think Antonia would let you out. Glad she did, eh Jasper? Down now, Lucy, that’s a good girl. Come on, both of you. Inside for a drink and some food.”

  “I’m off,” Morris announced softly from the drawing room. “Tell you the rest later, darling.”

  Laura heard his steps glide past the curtains toward the kitchens. He wasn’t quite fast enough. Just as Morris opened the door to the back hall, Lord Torrington came through the inner door. The polite voice instructing visitors to leave their cards and progress to the drawing room was no match for his bellow.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Lord Torrington demanded. “I believe I made my position quite clear, Morris, and if you come again I’ll call the police. Now get out!” He sounded much less gentlemanly than usual, Laura noticed with interest. Even his accent sounded different.

  Morris didn’t argue. “Yes, Sir,” he answered, mockery strong in his voice. His footsteps receded slowly down the long passage to the kitchen. Laura sighed inaudibly, sorry the dogs were no longer there to greet him.

  To her horror, they trotted over to the curtains and began to sniff eagerly at her feet. She held her breath.

  “Damned mice, they get in everywhere,” Lord Torrington grumbled to himself. “Walls are full of them. Or maybe rats, damn them.”

  Rats! Laura stiffened. A whole family of them could be hiding behind the curtain. She wanted badly to look down at her feet but dared not move her head or anything else.

  “Stop snuffling at those damned curtains,” Lord Torrington muttered impatiently to the dogs. “Can’t get at the damned creatures anyway.” Jasper and Lucy ignored him. Exasperated, Lord Torrington snapped his fingers. “Come,” he ordered sharply as he went into the drawing room. The dogs hesitated, and he called them again. “Come on, you great brutes.”

  They obeyed this time, their nails clicking on the stone floor as they followed him. Laura let out a sigh of relief and then realized she was going to sneeze. She should have known better than to hide behind dusty curtains. She squeezed her nose hard in a desperate effort to hold the sneeze back, but the impulse was irresistible and it emerged anyway. The sound was muffled but still audible.

  “What was that?” Antonia asked sharply.

  Laura held her nose again as another sneeze threatened. The dogs saved her. One of them sneezed, too, a loud wheezing sound that utterly obscured her next sneeze. Maybe they were allergic to dust too, she thought gratefully.

  “Dogs,” Lord Torrington answered briefly. They heard the sound of a drink being mixed; then there was silence - a very uncomfortable silence. Laura waited with interest to see what would happen next.

  She jumped when the butler’s voice sounded again. Another person came through the two doors. The footsteps were lighter than Lord Torrington’s heavy tread.

  “Nigel,” Catherine mouthed, and Laura thought she was probably right. The feet crossed quickly to the main staircase and mounted the steps.

  Lord Torrington’s angry voice broke the silence. “Why is that devil still hanging around? I though
t he’d left!”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. “Where’s Angelina?” he asked sharply. “Don’t like her here when Morris is around. Too friendly with her by far. Don’t trust his motives.”

  “I sent her to stay with my mother,” Antonia replied. “I thought it best. Besides, Lottie has gone away for a few days.”

  “Damned right it’s best,” Lord Torrington grunted. “I just hope your mother can hold on to her. Last time the silly child ran away from her and we had the deuce of a time finding her. She’s a clever little creature, but she doesn’t know what’s good for her.

  “Morris doesn’t either, since he’s still here,” he went on furiously. “He’s a loose cannon and I don’t want him around. And you didn’t answer me. Why the hell is he still here? You knew I wanted him gone.”

  “He came back on his own,” Antonia said, sounding defensive again. “He said he was helping Stewart with something.” She began to weep. “I can’t stop him,” she wailed. “He’s always been like that, doing what he wanted no matter what. If he gets an idea in his head he just does it…”

  The weeping came to a halt. “He scares me, Bark, truly he does. Ever since I’ve known him, he’s had that awful fascination -”

  “There, there, m’dear, not your fault,” Lord Torrington soothed absently, as if to a child. “He’s a bad one, though, no way around it, and he’s got to go. I’ll make sure he does,” he added grimly. “That’s -”

  He broke off as the dogs sprang up, barking loudly. A buzzer sounded in the hall near Laura.

  “Who could that be?” Lord Torrington asked irritably. “Have we got guests for tonight? If we have, I suppose we’ll have to let them in. But who the hell is going to cook for them? Why did that cook vanish anyway? You’ve got to learn to cook, Antonia,” he went on with a return to his former truculence. “Don’t know why you never have. Can’t be that hard.”

  “Perhaps you should give it a try, then.” Antonia’s voice dripped with ice and sweetness. She really did have claws, Laura thought, and was pleased. Lord Torrington positively exuded male chauvinism – a tendency of quite recent origins despite what most people thought. Females had been in charge for more than a hundred thousand years until patriarchal religions had come storming along a mere ten thousand years ago, and about time they were again, too.

  Lord Torrington merely grunted, and Antonia sighed. “Charlotte advertised in the local paper for a new cook,” she told him. “It came out today. I imagine that’s someone applying for the post.”

  Laura frowned. Who was Charlotte? The name sounded familiar, but she didn’t think she knew anyone called Charlotte.

  “At least we might get some dinner in the future,” Lord Torrington replied, sounding more cheerful.

  “Not if those two beasts greet her,” Antonia retorted sarcastically. “Most people don’t like being drooled on or knocked over.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Lord Torrington agreed grudgingly. “I’ll put them out the back door and you get the front.”

  He whistled to the dogs, hustled them past the curtains, where they tried hard to linger but without success. Lord Torrington grabbed their collars and shoved them through the door that led to the kitchens.

  “Out!” he told them firmly, opening the back door. “Go take a pee.”

  Antonia went to the front door. Laura and Catherine heard her greet the newcomer over the butler’s ubiquitous voice and then two pairs of footsteps came into the hall and passed by the curtains into the drawing room.

  “Do forgive our automatic butler,” Antonia was saying with a mix of humor and condescension that perfectly suggested the trials of parenthood. “Master Nigel, Lord Torrington’s son, created him when the real butler left. It’s become rather a joke with all of us, but there are times when I wish I knew how to turn him off. One of these days I must ask Nigel about it.”

  Antonia had morphed from weeping wife to sarcastic one and then to indulgent stepmother in two minutes flat, Laura thought in astonishment. The woman was a chameleon! But then, all of them seemed to have the ability to switch roles suddenly. Lord Torrington was no exception. When he returned to the drawing room his truculence had evaporated, and he was the perfect jovial host and prospective employer.

  “Good of you to come, Mrs. Murphy,” he said, after Antonia introduced him and explained that Mrs. Murphy was indeed interested in the position of cook at the manor. “Let’s have a chat, find out if the position will suit. Then I’ll take you up to meet the Baroness in her sitting room upstairs. We work at these things together, you know. All quite informal.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Mrs. Murphy replied primly. “That will be fine.”

  Catherine gave Laura a poke. “Nigel?” she mouthed, pointing upstairs. Laura nodded. There was a surprising amount of traffic at the manor tonight, and they might not get another chance to leave their hiding place undetected. Lord Torrington would soon bring Mrs. Murphy out to meet the Baroness, too.

  “Back stairs,” Catherine mouthed. Laura nodded again. Catherine led the way up to Nigel’s room, the last on the main hallway, and they knocked softly at his door. The sound of another door closing and soft footsteps farther down the hall sent them piling into the room without waiting for an answer. Nigel wasn’t there.

  Catherine’s face fell. “I wonder where he’s gone,” she whispered.

  “Maybe to his grandmother’s room,” Laura suggested. “But we can’t go there.” She peered around the room. She dared not turn on a light, but two large windows let in some moonlight. The bed looked as if a tornado had struck, but the rest of the room was very neat. Masks hung in well-spaced rows along the walls.

  The dogs began to bark hysterically again, and they went to the window to see what had disturbed them. Surely, the prospective cook wasn’t leaving already?

  An engine sprang to life and she saw the van, with Morris driving, backing toward the barn. It stopped, the engine idling. Laura fought down a laugh. How was he going to manage the dogs this time?

  To her disappointment, he didn’t try. Instead, he waited in the van while a darker man she didn’t recognize called softly to the dogs and opened the back door to let them in again. Jasper and Lucy bounded through, delighted to rejoin Lord Torrington.

  “That’s Stewart, the groom,” Catherine whispered, as the dark man went back to the van. “I wonder what they’re doing.”

  Once the back door had closed behind the dogs, Morris climbed out. The two men opened the back doors of the van and then went into the barn. After a while, they came out, carrying a bundle that looked like a rolled-up rug. It must be very heavy, Laura thought. They were both straining to hold it up. An oriental carpet perhaps? Could they be stealing it?

  Catherine gasped. “Look! Look at the end of it!” Laura looked, and saw shoes protruding from one end of the rolled-up rug.

  “My dad’s shoes!” Catherine moaned, grabbing Laura’s arm. “They’re my dad’s shoes. I’d know them anywhere. Laura, my dad’s inside that rug!” She turned to Laura, her face frantic with terror.

  Unbelieving, Laura stared at the rug. Surely, that couldn’t be true. Then she saw the shoes and recognized them immediately. Thomas had worn those shoes the night they had been at the manor together. She had noticed them because they were so perfectly polished. Her stomach tightened with fear.

  Catherine gasped again. “It’s him! It really is him!” Laura saw it too, just a quick glimpse of Thomas’s face sticking out at the other end of the rug. Then the two men dumped him unceremoniously into the van.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “What have they done to my father?” Catherine whimpered. “Is he dead? Laura, what should we do?” She looked like a panicky child, all pleasure at their escapade erased from her face.

  Laura tried to reassure her. “I doubt he’s dead,” she said, pretending an assurance she didn’t feel. “I mean, why would they bother to wrap him up in a rug if he was?”

  Even to her, the argument hardly sounded
convincing, but Catherine seemed to accept it. “We have to rescue him,” she whispered. “We’ve got to get to him fast if he’s still alive. Hurry! Follow me!”

  She ran to the other window, which had the trellis underneath, put one leg over the sill and began to descend. Laura peered down to make sure Catherine hadn’t fallen and immediately felt dizzy. She had always been terrified of heights. Did she really have to go down that way? Maybe she could run down the back stairs and go out the back door, or maybe alert the others, explain what was happening…

  “Come on,” Catherine hissed. “There’s no time. Hurry up!”

  Laura took a deep breath. Catherine was right. If Thomas was still alive, they had to get to him fast. There was no time for the stairs or to find help. No one would believe them anyway, and she couldn’t let Catherine face the two men alone.

  Gingerly, she lowered herself onto the trellis, clutching the window as she felt with her foot for a secure toehold. There weren’t any. The trellis was fragile, and the vines swayed dangerously under her grip. She forced herself lower anyway. How had Catherine done this so easily?

  She was halfway down and Catherine had just reached the bottom when the van doors slammed. The unexpected noise made Laura flinch, and she grabbed at the vine to steady herself. The engine revved, spewing gravel, and the vehicle sped away. She craned her neck, trying to see where it was going. As she did, the piece of vine she was holding swung away from the trellis, taking her with it. Swinging wildly, she clung desperately to the branch and struggled to rein in her feet. One toe hit a branch; she shoved the rest of the foot into it, then the other foot and waited for her heart to stop pounding so violently.

  “Hurry up!” Catherine’s voice was impatient and lashed with terror.